


The Line of Bane

by anonymous02



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Dark fic, F/F, F/M, I'm Bad At Summaries, Intrigue, M/M, Mandalorian Politics (Star Wars), Multi, Murder, Political Alliances, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sex, Sith AU (Star Wars), Vaginal Fingering, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29514372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous02/pseuds/anonymous02
Summary: The Jedi are dead and they died out a long, long, time ago.All that is left is the Sith.But now the Sith have a few familiar faces amongst their number...(Everyone's a Sith AU)(Special thanks to EquusGirl0621for being an awesome beta!)
Relationships: Chelli Lona Aphra/Darth Vader, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Bo-Katan Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Kudos: 12





	The Line of Bane

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Dead Dove, Do Not Eat. 
> 
> AKA, this is my hella dark sexually explicit fic that throws all my rare-pairs in the darkest ways possible. Seriously, the whole point of this fic is to write the fucked up shit that comes into my brain that's also REALLY interesting to explore/write. You've been warned. 
> 
> Also, sorry to all the people following me for RWBY content. This is really supposed to be my general NSFW content account, I just never got around to posting non-RWBY stuff. I'm really not sure if I'm ever getting around to finishing those RWBY fics.
> 
> Oh, and do NOT expect regular updates on this thing. It's going to be out of chrono-order, and it'll mostly be me writing events in this AU that interest me (IE the political parts and the sexual parts because I'm fecking predictable as hell). So again, be warned. I've learned to stop promising chapters because...well...yeah. 
> 
> Anywho, enjoy the fic!

A Thousand Years ago, the Jedi Order Fell. 

Darth Bane, The Great Manipulator, led a decisive blow that annihilated the core of the Jedi, and with the remaining Sith, systematically exterminated the Jedi from the galaxy.

Now, all remaining traces of the heretical light side users are gone, even the Jedi temples and artifacts long lost to time or one of innumerable Inquisitions. 

All that is left is the Sith.

Of course, that doesn’t mean that the Galaxy Far Far Away doesn’t have some familiar faces…

* * *

Obi-Wan’s foot was tapping. 

“Kenobi.” Came the voice of the regal woman in the throne next to him, dressed in a resplendent gown.

Obi-Wan sat up in his throne, taking in a steep breath, before turning to her slightly with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, Satine?” 

“Your foot is tapping,” she said, casually. 

The man scowled, growling slightly as he spoke. “He is  _ late _ .” 

The various armed and armored men around them all shifted nervously at Kenobi’s tone, the Mandalorian warriors backing away slightly.

Satine rolled her eyes with a dull bemusement. “It’s not like he’s on  _ our  _ schedule.” She smirked slightly. “Well...as far as  _ he  _ knows.” 

Something uncoiled in Kenobi’s body, and his face became more relaxed. As one, the Mandalorian warriors around them untensed with him. He lowered his chin to his intertwined fists, closing his eyes in meditation.

But the peace wasn’t to last, as another man walked in through a side door in the throne room. 

Dressed in green Mandalorian armor, and carrying his helmet, he nodded his head to the guards before proceeding to stand in front of the throne. 

“Sir-” 

“He’s here,” Obi-Wan interrupted. 

The man seemed slightly confused as to what to do next, being rendered redundant by his liege’s proclamation, before Satine piped up from the throne next to Obi-Wan’s. 

“Almec, do you mind moving about twelve steps to the left? You’ll have a better view, and you won’t be hit by shrapnel.” 

He nodded, before following her instructions, and moving to the side. 

One of Kenobi’s hands came up, and made a casual gesture to the other armed men in the room. As one, they tensed again, the Mandalorian warriors drawing various firearms and weapons, pointing them at the door.

Naught seconds later, the door to the throne room exploded inwards, shattering into glass shards that shone in the dusk light filtering through the room’s massive windows. 

Kenobi opened his eyes, revealing yellow irises with red sclera. 

“Ah, Pre Vizla. Welcome.”

* * *

This attack was going far better than Bo-Katan expected. They’d encountered no resistance flying into the core of Sundari, and even fewer guards around the palace. 

And as the charges detonated on the door, Bo allowed herself to hope that maybe,  _ maybe  _ this op was going to go smoothly. They’d decapitate the head of the dar'jetii who was taking over her planet and free her people from his grip. 

But as the smoke grenades faded, and she could better make out the throne room, she realized that hope was misplaced. 

_ “Ah, Pre Vizla. Welcome.” _

That Sith Lord was there, draped in his dark robes, sitting on the throne. His lightsaber casually attached to his hip.

Her traitorous sister was  _ also  _ there. Satine was sitting on the throne next to him, bedecked in the kind of resplendent dress that only her sister was capable of pulling off without appearing pretentious. (Something in the back of her mind noted that Satine’s seat was not only to the right of the Sith’s, but it was slightly depressed. A symbol of subservience that only rankled Bo even more.)

Unfortunately, the ruling pair were not alone. 

Over a dozen Mandalorians were standing by them, all of them armed, and all of their arms pointed at the Deathwatch members who’d invaded their throne room. 

Bo-Katan had expected things to go wrong. That was the nature of war. 

But as her eyes trailed over clan leaders and warriors from every clan on Mandalore ready to shoot her, she distantly realized that she and her compatriots had been led into a trap.

* * *

To his credit, her leader’s reaction to their plan going awry was much faster than hers.

“Kenobi!!!” Pre Vizla roared, pointing at the Sith sitting on the throne. “Your reign ends here!” 

The Sith’s eyes, rapidly shifting back into the blue they normally were, blatantly looked from Vizla’s small band of Mandalorians, to the dozen Mandalorians standing behind him. 

“Really?” he said, almost conversationally. 

“Yes!” Vizla almost shouted. “No outsider will ever rule Mandalore, you defile our customs and traditions with your every breath you take!” 

Kenobi’s eyebrow raised slightly, and he took a quick glance at the woman next to him before turning back to the irate Mandalorian in front of him. 

“I can assure you, I am defiling a  _ great  _ number of things, but Mandalore I am not,” he continued with a smirk.

Satine started slightly, and she glared at him before turning back to the exchange. 

Vizsla whipped a hilt out of his side, igniting a black lightsaber blade with glowing white light around its edges. 

“I will  _ kill  _ you here, Kenobi,” Vizsla growled. 

At that, Kenobi’s face lost any hint of teasing, and he slowly stood, bringing himself up to his full height. He began walking forward towards the Mandalorian. 

“And how, exactly, do you plan to do that, Pre?” He said as he slowly approached him. “What’s going to stop me from ordering these lovely gentlemen and women from shooting you dead before you even approach me?” 

He casually gestured at the various blasters pointed at Vizla’s strike team. 

The clan leader was visibly worried, his eyes flitting from the guns, to the woman sitting in the throne watching with a dull amusement, to the Sith, who’d gotten so close, his neck was now mere inches from his blade. 

Kenobi whispered to him low enough for only him to hear. “Come on Vizla, you know you want to.” 

Bo-Katan’s hand shot out, and grabbed his spare arm, silently pleading with him not to do it. 

Pre gritted his teeth in anger, and shrugged off her hand. 

“KENOBI, I CHALLENGE YOU, ONE WARRIOR TO ANOTHER, SO ONLY THE  _ STRONGEST  _ MAY RULE MANDALORE!” He shouted.

The Sith smirked. 

“I accept.”

* * *

They took several paces from each other, Vizsla holstering his weapons, and Kenobi taking a subtle ready stance.

“Before we start-” Satine began from the throne, the imperial tone of her voice establishing herself as the arbiter of the fight. “This is an Honor Duel, to the Death. Upon completion, the winner of the match is entitled to everything, all rights and privileges the loser possesses.  _ Haat, ijaa, haa'it. _ ” 

“ _ Haat, ijaa, haa'it _ ,” Vizsla said seriously, adjusting his gauntlets as he sealed his pact. 

“ _ Haat, ijaa, haa'it _ ,” Kenobi agreed, cricking his neck. 

“Good.” The regent said cooly. “On your marks.”

The two men tensed.

“Get set.” 

Their hands hovered over their weapons.

“ _ Begin _ .” 

Lights streaked across the room as Vizsla and Obi-Wan drew their weapons with exceptional swiftness. 

Kenobi was faster, but he only just had enough time to block the first volley of blaster bolts coming his way.

Pre had already taken to the air, and peppered the Sith with yellow laserfire, trying to keep him off-balance. 

A quick grenade lobbed Kenobi’s way had him rolling, and the shockwave caught him off guard, rattling him. 

Soon Pre was diving, flames pouring out of his gauntlets towards the Sith, forcing him back as the Mandalorian advanced.

The Mandalorians encircling the two parted, and soon Kenobi found his back bumping up against a wall. 

He started, looking behind him at the contact, and the Mandalorian took advantage. 

Vizsla lunged forward with the Darksaber, his jetpack providing a boost for his jump, leading him into a flying leap at Kenobi. 

Kenobi’s eyes narrowed, and with a blur, he dodged again, this time the red light of his lightsaber streaking out to clip Vizsla’s jetpack. 

The Sith, who had retreated back to the middle of the throne room, smirked. 

“Well, is that all you’ve got, Vizsla?” he taunted.

The Mandalorian paused, feinting activation of his jetpack, before he ripped it off his back and threw it towards Kenobi’s head.

The Sith barely had time to let his eyes widen in surprise before a blaster bolt from Vizsla’s gauntlet ignited the fuel leak Kenobi had created, causing a fireball to erupt in the middle of the floor. 

“AHH-” Kenobi cried in pain, hand over his eyes, as the other waved his lightsaber. 

“ _ This _ is the great sith who conquered Mandalore?” Vizsla said scornfully to the crowd, breath heaving. “Look at him!” 

The Mandalorian lunged forward with the Darksaber, but as it came down, Kenobi’s head twitched towards the weapon, and his lightsaber met it with a warped crackling noise echoing from where they connected.

Pre drew back, suspicious, but carefully studying him. 

“He is weak,” he continued to the silent audience, circling the Sith like a predator. “He cannot protect you.” 

Vizsla gave a cursory swipe of his weapon, the electrical sound shimmering in the air, and Kenobi reacted, turning to the noise with his hand still covering his eyes. 

Pre looked from his opponent’s eyes to his weapon, and smirked, before deactivating it. 

“This man is no Mandalorian,” he drawled, before darting to his left, and silently slamming his fist under Kenobi’s chin. 

The Sith staggered, and tried to bring his lightsaber down, but Vizsla was already in too close, and his hand was wrapped around Kenobi’s wrist, and a subtle sweep of the legs had both men on the floor. 

“You are no  _ Mandalorian _ !” Vizsla growled, slamming Kenobi’s lightsaber out of his hand so it rattled across the floor. 

“YOU ARE NO MANDALORIAN!!!” Vizsla began, almost shouting as he slammed his free fist into Kenobi’s face. 

“DO YOU HEAR ME ARUETIISE!!” he continued, now shouting as the gathered Mandalorians looked on mutely. The fist continued slamming into his face, knocking Kenobi’s head into the stone floor, blood spilling from the side of his mouth. But oddly enough, his eyes remained stubbornly closed as the soot still lined them.

“YOU. ARE. NO. MANDALORIAN!!!” he finished, screaming, face contorted with all the rage and contempt he held for the man, finally letting up on his withering assault to catch his breath. 

“...and you never will be.” Vizsla whispered, before roaring, one final punch flying towards the man…

...only to be caught in Kenobi’s hand.

Satine smirked.

Vizsla’s eyes first went to Kenobi’s arm, straining to hold back his punch, before turning to Kenobi’s face. 

It was a rictus of determination and  _ anger _ , one that made his soul cringe at what was to come. 

And his opponent’s eyes were finally open.

They were a sickly yellow and red. 

Kenobi’s voice growled out like cracking durasteel. 

“ _ I.  _ **_am_ ** _. Mandalore. _ ”

* * *

A quick movement of Kenobi’s arm backwards pulled Pre forward into a brutal headbutt so powerful that the Mandalorian staggered back in disbelief and pain

In a crouch, Vizla reached for the Darksaber, knocked to the ground by his tackle, only for Kenobi’s black boot to kick it away.

He turned up to the man just long enough to see his smirk, before the Sith laid a brutal kick to Vizsla’s neck. 

Even Bo-Katan, a seasoned veteran, winced at the horrible noises her leader made after having his trachea bruised so viciously.

* * *

“Alright, Pre…” Kenobi said, nearly conversational, if it were not for the murderous undertone that belied his Coruscanti accent. “Let’s talk about strength, and Mandalore.” 

“Is it strong to pick on those who can’t fight back?” He continued, approaching the stricken man, eyes focused and face a cold mask. “To intimidate and strongarm defenseless villages into doing your bidding?” 

Kenobi stopped in front of him, wiping away some blood trickling from his nose, before grabbing Vizla by his armor as he continued hacking on the ground. “Oh come now, up already. We’ve only just started!” he said with faux cheer.

He held the man up just long enough to give him a salacious smile before a sudden frown signaled his fist slamming into the Mandalorian’s face. The man staggered back towards the door and Bo-Katan, his nose bleeding profusely.

“Is it strong to burn those villages to the ground the second they stop being of use to you?” Kenobi continued, rage beginning to truly drip from his tone. He whipped the man around to face him, “Well, is it,  _ Pre _ ?” he said, eye to eye with his assailant 

He drove another fist into Vizsla’s gut, and the man wheezed again, crumbling to kneel on the floor.

“Or maybe, just maybe, there’s  _ actual  _ Mandalorian strength.” Kenobi drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Maybe, Mandalore’s  _ real _ strength isn’t your blasters, or your fucking  _ ‘Beskar,’ _ ” he said, with a special intonation on the last word, indicating exactly what he thought of the Mandalorian obsession with the metal.

He pulled Pre up again, this time the man could barely stand.

* * *

_ Bo Katan was watching with mute horror as her leader was publicly beaten in front of her. Every punch had her body twitching, every bruise on his face had her face screw up in disgust.  _

_ Eventually, Kenobi pulled up Pre for another barrage and she couldn’t look anymore. Her eyes moved from him to look at anything else. Eventually, her eyes locked with her sister, who was staring at her intently. _

_ Satine raised a brow at her, before pointedly moving her eyes from Bo, to the two men fighting.  _

_ Bo turned back to the fight, and tried to retain her composure, but soon the image of her compatriot being pulverized became too much, and her face zipped to her sister again, with a pleading expression. _

* * *

“Maybe what makes Mandalorians special is your fucking  _ honor _ .” He laid a blow on the man’s face.

* * *

_ They’d been apart for years, separated by war. But Satine could still read her like a book. She tilted her head in a questioning manner, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. _

* * *

“ _ Decency _ .” the Sith continued.

* * *

_ Bo paused, and nodded, eyes going downcast in shame. _

* * *

Another fist into his face. “ _ Loyalty _ .”

* * *

_ Satine nodded, and turned back to the combatants, and raised her finger. _

* * *

Two clicks came from the throne. Satine had lightly rapped her delicate fingernails into the metal arm rest.

Kenobi stopped his rampage, holding the man up by the scruff of his collar. The yellow in his eyes dimmed slightly. “ **_Family_ ** ,” he finished. “Honor, Decency, and  _ Family  _ make Mandalore strong.” 

He pulled the man closer, and spoke just quietly enough that the inner circle of warriors could hear him, including Bo-Katan and Satine. 

“Were it up to just me, I would kill you right now, and pick the Darksaber from your corpse.” He growled at him. “...but you have some people who care deeply about you,” he continued more softly, eyes flickering to Bo Katan, who froze under his gaze.

“...permanent exile to Concord Dawn.” he finished more loudly, so all could hear, turning back to the man. “That is my only offer.” 

He backed off, and kicked Pre bodily into the circle of people around him. The man was caught by Bo and another Deathwatch soldier who’d accompanied them.

* * *

Bo frantically checked his face, pulling open his eyelids to check his pupil dilation. Whatever she found wasn’t good, and it showed on her face. 

She waved off the other soldier, and she gently laid him on her knee. 

“Something’sss wronggg.” Pre said, slurring his words. 

“No shit, sir, but just stay still, you’ll survive this-” She said, pulling out a bacta spray and coating his head.

“No, nonono, why is he doing this…” he said warily, waving off his wounds.

“It doesn’t matter  _ why _ , all you need to do is take the deal and we go free,” she whispered to him. 

“No, he has some kind of game here, I know it-” 

“ _ No _ .” she growled at him. “It’s no game, just fucking  _ take  _ it.  _ I can’t get anything better for you _ .” 

“Not unless I  _ know _ . Why is he doing-” Pre started, something in her words finally catching in his head as he tried to focus on her again.

“Take. The. Deal. Dammit,” she said, saltwater threatening to drip from her nose.

“W-” Pre started, before Vizsla’s eyes drifted from her, to Kenobi, to Satine, who was enjoying one of the drinks Almec had handed to her and the Sith. They slowly drifted back to Bo-Katan once more, who wore a distraught expression. 

Realization flowed through his face, before being replaced with anger, then an inscrutable look even she couldn’t decipher.

His eyes closed in exhaustion, before they scrunched in concentration as he started to strain to get up. 

“No. Nonoonono-NO!” Bo shouted, two Deathwatch having to restrain her slightly as Pre walked back into the ring.

* * *

“Kenobi.” Vizsla said, slurring his words slightly, before shaking his head, his eyes becoming more focused.

Kenobi sighed, gently putting down his glass. 

“Almec, might I trouble you for a sidearm?” He said, with faux indifference. The Prime Minister quietly handed him a Mandalorian pistol, which Kenobi quickly flipped to hold by the barrel, before walking up to Vizsla, standing formally in front of him. 

Kenobi’s eyes were a near blue when he reached the man, before they turned to the distraught woman numbly staring at the two of them. 

The Sith sighed, closing his eyes. “...you’re refusing my offer. Aren’t you?” 

Vizsla wiped some blood leaking from his mouth, and spat more to the side. 

“Yes. I am.” 

The Sith’s face hardened in anger. 

“You  _ fucking  _ idiot.” He growled, and Vizsla barely had time to register the Sith’s most yellow eyes yet, before his head was ripped to the side from being pistol whipped by the livid man and he fell to his knees. 

Kenobi visibly restrained himself as he breathed hard and angrily, pacing about the circle as Vizsla spat blood from his spot on all fours. 

A few seconds of breathing, and Kenobi’s eyes were nearly blue again, though his fingers around the pistol were still flexing with rage. 

“...” Kenobi’s head turned up to Satine, who had raised her eyebrow and shrugged, and the man sighed. 

Vizsla slowly crawled towards the Darksaber, the blood dripping from his mouth leaving a macabre trail behind him.

“...I won’t punish any of your clan for this.” Kenobi said quietly, just loud enough for the rest of the leaders of Mandalore to hear from their spots around them as Pre’s fingers curved around the hilt of the ancient weapon. “So long as they don’t commit violence against me, I won’t harm them.”

With their backs turned to each other, Kenobi standing, and Pre on the floor, neither was able to see the other. 

But Kenobi would  _ swear  _ he heard Pre’s voice say something.

* * *

“ _ Thank you _ .”

* * *

“RAAHHHHHH” The Mandalorian, running on pure adrenaline and willpower, whipped around with the Darksaber raised above his head to strike Kenobi down once and for all-

And he fell dead to the floor, the weapon falling from his hand.

The Sith stood there, with his smoking blaster, before walking over to the man’s body, and squatting over it, carefully examining the grisly aftermath of what his laser bolt had done to his opponent’s face, before nodding.

“So uncivilized,” he muttered angrily, tossing the pistol over his shoulder to Almec, who awkwardly caught it.

The Sith stood, pulling the Darksaber hilt from the body’s bloody fingers, while using the Force to pull his own weapon from where it’d fallen. 

He ignited both with a flourish, and slammed them together over his head, causing a sound like lightning on steel to echo through the throne room. 

Satine smirked, and held her head up high. 

“I hereby declare the Winner is Obi-Wan Kenobi. Everything, all rights and privileges Pre Vizsla possessed, are now his.  _ Haat, ijaa, haa'it.” _

“ _ Haat, ijaa, haa'it. _ ” The crowd intoned solemnly. 

But before the oath finished echoing through the room, Almec pointed his head up, and began chanting a word. Soon, others in the crowd chimed in, with  _ all  _ eventually joining him in chanting at Obi-Wan.

“Man’dalor.” 

“ _ Man’dalor _ .” 

“ **_Man’dalor_ ** !”

* * *

Bo had turned away from Pre’s death. She’d seen the pistol whip around, and she’d been in enough conflict that she knew what was coming next. 

She’d refused to look at the body for the same reason.

Now she was a roiling mass of emotions, not helped by the now raucous crowd around her proclaiming Kenobi the new leader of her planet. 

She just wanted to disappear.

* * *

Satine noticed Bo-Katan turning to leave the throne room. 

With a quick glance, and a flick of her fingers, two men quietly blocked her way, and, grabbing the glass of champagne she’d been nurturing, she got up to chat with her sister.

* * *

When Bo tried to leave, she found two warriors blocking her. Two  _ Deathwatch  _ warriors.

“What is the meaning of this?” she growled. 

“The Duchess would like a word with you,” one said ominously. 

Bo realized the significance of what he said, and suddenly Satine and The Sith being so well prepared for Deathwatch’s attack made complete sense. 

“You fucking  _ traitor- _ ” She yelled, about to punch the man in his helmet, when a voice came from behind her. 

“Bo-Katan.” 

Bo froze, the imperious tone still familiar after all these years. 

But she’d never heard it this deadly. 

Her own voice was a mixture of rage, tempered by a hint of fear.

“Satine.” She said as calmly as she could, before turning around to face her sister. 

Her inscrutable sibling simply stood there, sipping on her alcohol. “You weren’t thinking of  _ leaving _ , were you, Bo?” 

Bo had to physically restrain herself from punching her sibling in her face. “My…” She started, and couldn’t bring herself to continue. “ _ Pre _ is dead.  _ You _ killed him. I want to  _ leave _ .” She finished with all the venom she could muster.

“Oh, Bo, darling…” Satine crooned, finger gently trailing over the rim of her glass. “You  _ can’t  _ leave.” 

One again, she had the urge to slam her fist into her sibling’s face. But the cold presence of the two traitors standing behind her moderated that response into an angry sigh, through which her rage merely morphed into something more broken. 

“...why. What do you want?” she said hoarsely. 

Satine huffed like an indignant teacher. “Really, Bo, we  _ must  _ teach you the intricacies of diplomacy.” She tilted her head towards the Mandalorian warrior. “ _ You _ made a deal.  _ We  _ honored it.” 

Bo looked away slightly so she didn’t meet her sister’s eyes. “Pre is dead.” 

“ _ Pre _ did not make the deal.” The Duchess said, a shred of her annoyance seeping through her tone. “ _ You _ did. It’s not  _ our  _ fault the damn idiot chose to die.” 

“He was  _ not  _ an idiot.” Bo growled, and the two warriors flanking her flinched. 

Satine smirked. “There it is...that anger you’re so fond of. I was worried we’d broken you.” 

Her sister glared at her, and Satine feigned nonchalance once more. 

“In any event, you have a  _ debt _ , dear sister.” Another ounce of her true feelings showed again, this time, worry. “We put a  _ lot  _ on the line to give Pre that fucking deal. You do realize we said the fight was to the  _ death _ , correct?”

“I am  _ aware _ .” Bo growled again with venom. 

Satine let out a furious sigh. “No. No you fucking don’t  _ ‘big’  _ sister. You cannot even  _ fathom  _ what is going on. A Mandalorian’s word is their  _ worth _ , and that was  _ quite  _ the favor we granted you.” 

Bo grimaced, the presence of the armed men next to her, and the raucous leaders of Mandalore weighing heavily through her sister’s words. “...how do you want me to pay you back?” 

The tone was placating and condescending now that her sister had finally gotten with the program. “Simple, Bo. You will fulfill your debt by fulfilling someone else’s debt. I believe you and Pre were...close? You fulfilled some of his more...physical...needs?” 

Her sister scowled at the slight. “I was his  _ Verburyc at te Kyr'am (Loyal to the Death) _ . Do  _ not  _ disparage what we had.”

Satine smiled again, a vicious, predatory, and cruel thing that made Bo suspect she’d made a grave error. “Perfect.” the Duchess whispered under her breath. “See, I have a problem that I think you are well poised to solve.”

A cold feeling came down Bo’s spine as Satine reached one of her manicured fingers to gently trail the edge of Bo’s face, slowly pulling her head up. 

“See,  _ you  _ have a great debt to us…” Satine drawled carefully. 

Satine leaned, in her blonde tresses tickling Bo’s ear as her fingers tightened, digging into Bo’s chin. “And  _ you  _ were Pre’s  _ Verburyc at te Kyr'am (Loyal to the Death). _ ”

Bo’s face slowly morphed into one of dawning horror as she realized what Satine had angled her face to look upon. 

She found her eyes locked with the demonic yellow of the Sith standing in the middle of the room. Directed at her, the man’s hungry and feral expression sent twin impulses of fear and something warmer into her core.

She could  _ feel  _ Satine smile at her realization.

“Oh Bo. You may have been Vizsla’s. But Vizsla is dead. And all that was Vizsla’s, is now  _ his _ .” She whispered. 

Distantly, Bo noticed that the two traitor Deathwatch were dismissed, and left to disappear into the crowd, leaving her alone with Satine.

The Duchess gently brought her champagne glass up to her sister’s lips, angling it so Bo could sip, then chug the liquid wholesale, until the entire thing was drained. 

“There you go, Bo.” Satine said, with false cheer. “Now, go have a cry, or fight, or drink, or whatever it is you Deathwatch do to mourn.” 

Her face suddenly went cold, with an expression that sent shivers into Bo-Katan’s soul. 

“And when you’re done, you will come to our palace, to work off your  _ debt _ .” Satine feigned leaving, before pausing.

“Oh, and if you think of just running? And we don’t see you before sunset?” Suddenly, Satine darted forward, grabbing Bo’s ear in her teeth, biting hard enough to cause it to bleed, and forcing the Mandalorian warrior to wince in pain, gritting her teeth and groaning, before Satine pulled back, blood tainting her lipstick. “If you do not settle your debts, we will not settle  _ ours _ .”

* * *

_ “...I won’t punish any of your clan for this.” Kenobi said, quietly, just loud enough for the rest of the leaders of Mandalore to hear from their spots around them, as Pre’s fingers curved around the hilt of the ancient weapon. “So long as they don’t commit violence against me, I won’t harm them.” _

* * *

“Do you understand?” the Duchess said as she wiped the blood from her mouth. 

While the pain of her ear bleeding made it hurt to move her head, Bo scowled at her sister, before standing up straight, holding her head high, and nodding.

They stood in silence for several seconds, before Bo slowly pulled her helmet from her side, and refusing to break eye contact, she put it on, cutting off the staring contest, before she carefully left the throne room, using her jetpack to take off to parts unknown.

Satine smiled. 

“Good girl.”

* * *

It was dusk by the time Satine walked to her personal speeder pad on the edge of the palace. Mandalore’s sunsets were never anything particularly pretty to look at. Never enough pollution or cloud cover to give the dizzying array of colors that a true Core World sunset like Coruscant’s would. 

Tactically though, the lack of anything on the horizon had its uses. For example, nothing impeded the view of potential visitors. 

Which is why Satine had complete confidence that her sister wasn’t flying towards them.

The Duchess sighed, and pulled out a holoprojector. 

A crouching Mandalorian sniper laid prone in the blue light of the hologram.

“Fenn Rau, status.” 

He barely tilted his head in acknowledgement, but his voice came through clearly. 

“Merely waiting for the command, Duchess.” 

Satine watched as the last curve of Mandalore’s star approached the horizon. 

“...procee-” Satine paused. A dark speck appeared in the light of the dying sun, and Satine could barely make out that it was getting larger as it approached her position.

“...Commander Rau, continue monitoring them.”

“Yes, my lady.” The man said, his body still frozen where it stood. 

Satine deactivated the holoprojector, and pulled out a communicator, speaking into the microphone. 

“Defensive perimeter.” 

“My lady, we were about to call you-” 

“Let her through, she has an appointment.” she interrupted, command lacing her tone.

“...very well my lady.” 

Satine paused, gently tapping her finger on her chin in indecision, before seeming coming to a conclusion. 

“If you don’t hear from me in 24 hours, find our guest and execute her. She’ll be armed and dangerous.” 

“Of course, my lady.” 

The Duchess, now done with her work, turned to welcome the now distinct form of her dear sister.

* * *

Satine silently waved her sister over, and Bo did her the courtesy of the quietest and most polite landing she could manage. 

They continued the silence as Bo removed her helmet, and followed Satine further into the Palace.

Satine took a second for her glance to flicker to Bo’s face. She didn’t see any of the normal indications of mourning. No bruises that hadn’t been there before, no tear tracks. She sniffed slightly, and finally found the smell of some terrible Corellian brandy. 

Not enough to impair, but there was no doubting her sister had partaken earlier in the evening. Finally, Satine’s eyes turned to her handiwork, a small bacta patch on Bo’s ear where she’d bit her. 

The Duchess smirked.

Bo scowled, and finally broke the silence between them. 

“I’d think your  _ dear  _ husband would meet me at the door.” 

Satine snickered. “Oh, Bo. He doesn’t bother himself with such trivialities.” 

The Mandalorian Warrior, still armed to the teeth, seriously considered punting her little sister through a wall, but something about the airy way Satine said that had her suspicious. 

“...where is he?” She asked carefully, realizing that, as opposed to the occupied military compound most Mandalorian leaders currently resided in, Satine’s palace was almost completely empty of servants and guards.

“Hmph.” Some of the annoyance lying under the surface bubbled into her tone. “Our room.”

“What’s-” “-Right here actually!” Satine said, interrupting Bo’s question. 

The warrior breathed deeply, before grabbing her pistols from her side, and placing them in her upside down helmet, extending it to Satine. 

“I assume you don’t want me to have these?” She said drolly. 

“Thank you.” Satine said, taking the helmet with dainty fingers. 

Bo paused, almost awkward if she wasn’t still so angry.

“...so what? I strip my armor too?” 

Satine smirked, one hand pressing the button to open the door to a dark room. 

“No, frankly, he likes a little fight in them.” She stated matter of factly. 

Bo started. “Wait, what the fuck does that mea-” Satine slammed her own helmet into her sister’s lower back with surprising force, knocking the warrior through the doorway. 

The warrior got up and whipped around in one fluid motion, only getting enough time to see her sister’s satisfied expression before the automatic door slammed shut in her face, a beep and red light on the control panel telling her that it was locked. 

“Satine you fucking  _ bastard _ .” Bo whispered, fist numbly sliding down the door. “What the  _ fuck  _ did you just force me into?”

A low, primal, noise, came from behind her, and she slowly turned around.

* * *

Bo couldn’t see anything in the darkened room. But years of combat and training had already shaped her movements, her body going into a ready stance of an obscure Mandalorian kata she learned in the barracks of Concord Dawn. 

“...Hmmmm.” A noise came from the darkness. “A fighter.” 

The warrior’s eyes darted left and right, trying to find the source of the voice. 

“You must be Kenobi.” She said as evenly as she could, her fists tensed as she moved carefully. 

“...and you must be Satine’s beloved sister.” 

Bo couldn’t hold back a snort. “You have  _ got  _ to be kidding me.” 

“No, I really am not. Satine speaks quite highly of you.” 

“I find that hard to believe” she whispered softly, her head desperately tilting. 

“Yes, she always thought you were a great leader.” He continued conversationally, before his voice deepened into something more dangerous. “That’s why she was always so torn by the atrocities Deathwatch committed.” 

A bead of sweat involuntarily dripped down her brow. 

“It was-It  _ is _ war.” She said, trying to keep a false anger in her tone.

“It  _ was  _ war.” Kenobi clarified. “And in war, there is a difference between collateral damage, and atrocities.” 

Bo thought she could tell where he was now. She began advancing, trying to not let on that she knew.

“And you have committed  _ so  _ many crimes, haven’t you, Bo Katan?”

She growled, fingers hovering over the button that would draw the hidden blade from her gauntlet. “I did it for my clan.  _ Everything  _ for my clan.” 

Kenobi sighed. “And  _ that  _ is the only reason you’re not dead right now.” 

Bo Katan froze.

She could almost hear him rolling his eyes. 

“Relax, my dear. I have no intention of killing you. In fact, Satine wants you back. She’ll forgive you.”

It was lucky that Bo Katan was already standing in the place she wished to strike from, because the last words sent her into a fit of rage, where she lunged towards the Sith.

“You have NO RIGHT TO JUDGE ME!!!” She shouted, her gauntlet blade driving down towards the Sith’s torso…

...if he had been there. All she found was dark air, and though her eyes were now adjusting to the low light, she still couldn’t see him in the dark outlines of the royal bedroom. 

“...why the  _ fuck  _ am I here?” she whispered.

“If I had to guess?” Kenobi continued casually. “ _ Punishment _ .” 

His breath tickled her ear, the intact one, and Bo whipped around, her blade now aimed at the correct mass of darkness with yellow eyes that lingered behind her.

He managed to grab her gauntlet, slamming it into a nearby table with a resounding thud hard enough to rattle through to her spine. 

Her conscious thoughts were already processing the damage to her gauntlet (judging by the sparks and painful bruise, likely completely useless barring as a blunt force weapon) while her subconscious was already kicking the Sith in the stomach, sending him staggering into a wooden table.

Her other, unslammed, hand was already up, firing a cable at the Sith, hoping to ensnare him. 

Instead, the line wrapped around his waiting hand. 

With a smirk, he roughly tugged her towards him, catching her off balance. 

One smooth move Bo could barely register, he used her forward momentum and his raw strength to flip her up, and over him, only to slam her body onto the table behind him.

Her body instantly arched in pain, despite the padding her armor provided. She could already feel the painful bruises lancing up her back in the morning, if she survived this. 

But just as she thought that, the Sith  _ blurred  _ over the table. She felt two firm hands holding her hands above her, and two legs in between hers, forcefully holding her down.

Then she bothered to focus on what was in front of her. 

Two demonic yellow eyes gazed into her soul. 

And she gazed right back. 

After what felt like an eternity of evaluation, the eyes eventually closed, and she had to hold back a sigh of relief.

Then two lips were on her own, a tongue roughly forcing its way into her mouth, seeming to claim every part of her mouth as his own. 

When he pulled back, his eyes seemed...almost less yellow. More uncertain.

“...you  _ know  _ what Satine sent you to do, right?” He asked seriously.

* * *

_ “If you do not settle your debts, we will not settle  _ **_ours_ ** _.” _

* * *

Bo sighed, cracked her neck, and  _ lunged  _ forward. Her lips engulfed his, and this time,  _ she  _ was the one invading  _ his  _ mouth.

They pulled away almost simultaneously, but Bo kept her teeth locked onto his bottom lip, causing him to groan in pain, and bleed, before she let go to flop her head back down.

His jaw shifted, seemingly tasting the copper in his blood like a wine. 

His eyes seemed to glow even more yellow, and Bo suspected she’d made a horrible mistake.

Something flew from his belt to his hand still wrapped in her tow cable. 

A red blade of plasma erupted, inches from her face.

Her eyes widened in fear, and something in the Sith seemed to _revel_ in that.

But as quickly as the feeling had come, it passed, with Kenobi making a quick motion with his hand, severing the cable at the source, coincidentally grazing her gauntlet too, disabling some of the last of her weapons. 

She could feel the heat of the lightsaber passing by her wrist, but she didn’t have time to dwell on that, as she was being flipped to the side, where her arms were then pulled behind her and wrapped in her own cables.

“Hey, you fucking-” * _ Smack _ * 

The back of Sith’s hand stung on her face, and though he probably couldn’t see her eyes in the dark light, she  _ glared  _ at him. 

Soon she felt the cords tighten just a smidge past uncomfortable on her wrists, and the Sith flipped her over onto her front. 

He then hopped off her, and when she tried to get up to follow, landing her legs on the ground, a hand grabbed Bo by her ginger hair, and roughly pushed her face back down onto the table.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She growled at him 

“You know  _ exactly  _ what I’m doing.” He growled back into her ear, slapping her ass through the beskar, causing her to groan.

Now that she was bent over the table, and his hand had her face pressed into the wood, the Sith’s other hand grabbed the waistband of her armored pants. Her eyes momentarily widened before he viciously dragged them down her knees. 

Near-instantaneously, her combat standard drawers, and the bare tops of her legs were open to the air. 

She felt his fingers slowly making their way down her ass, working under the thin cloth to touch bare skin. Against her own better judgment, she could feel the excitement building inside her, and she was  _ certain  _ the Sith bastard who had her tied up and pressed into the table knew too. 

Soon, his fingers had found themselves lightly brushing the edges of her labia. 

Calloused fingertips showed unusual care, gently working their ways up and down her folds, before beginning lazy circles around her sex. 

But the “lazy” movements soon became anything but, with Kenobi’s fingers seemingly searching for something. 

With a heady gasp from the woman, his fingers found it. Soon Obi Wan was grinding his fingers around her clit, fondling the edges in a way that had her struggling not to rut against his hand. Maddeningly, his pace refused to increase, and because of that, Bo’s needy core continued becoming wetter and wetter, soon soaking through the cloth surrounding it, and into the skin of her thighs.

She kept her breathing as even as she could, trying to maintain the kind of composure her body wouldn’t, but a random brutal swipe over her clitoris had her moaning in ecstasy.

Bo could  _ feel  _ the pretentious asshole smiling behind her, and she gritted her teeth. 

“I know you want it dammit, just  _ do it _ already.” She growled, a tremor belying her frustration. 

A hot breath tickled her intact ear, fluttering into it. 

“I like my cunts  _ wet _ .” He growled back, causing a shiver to go down her spine.

Just like that, she heard cloth dropping to the floor behind her, and the red light of a lightsaber came from behind her. For a second, she thought he was going to kill her, but the light quickly died. She realized that what was once her underwear felt like it had disappeared, and suddenly, her legs felt freer. 

A shift of feet had her legs spread wide for him, and she didn’t have time to comprehend what he’d done to her armor to split it when she felt the warm touch of skin on skin at her entrance. 

She braced herself slightly, her breath carefully controlled. If he was taking the time to spread her like this, the Sith intended to go deep, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of her reaction.

All her preparation went out the window on the first thrust. 

The warm mass inside her rammed into her core, causing her back to arch in pleasure and pain. When he ripped himself back out of her, something between a scream and a moan erupted from her mouth, and suddenly the hand that had been so cozily nestled in her hair, snapped back, dragging her hair, and thus her head back, adding more momentum to his next thrust. 

The pain of the hair pulling, the degradation of her position being tied up and fucked into a table, and the pleasure of being rammed by Kenobi all blended together into one experience. 

She was vaguely aware she was making some kind of new noise, but for the life of her, she did not know, nor care what that noise was, she was so consumed in the lust, rage, and pain as he continued thrusting in and out of her. 

Eventually, the combination of feelings brought her to a violent and brutal crescendo as her arousal finally reached its zenith, and she came in a trembling mess on top of the table. 

But her climax only seemed to embolden the Sith, and he continued fucking her through her tremors, in fact even seeming to go  _ harder  _ at her reactions.

He slammed into her with such force, the top of her thighs banged into the table with every wet slap of skin on skin, soon bruising them. 

Her hair gained a dull roar of pain as every time it was dragged back, it felt like she was going to be scalped. 

And what few juices provided lubrication at first were eclipsed by the torrent of liquids that flooded from her abused cunt as she somehow came again and again from her brutal treatment. 

It all was a blur to her, equals of pleasure and pain, before he finally let her go, pulling out and throwing her to the side, her limp body collapsing onto the floor. 

She sat up slightly, groggy and still out of it from the flood of feelings and sensations that had flooded her head.

Distantly, some part of her brain that was still conscious realized that Kenobi was  _ still  _ hard. 

“...what the  _ fuck  _ does it take to get you off?” she whispered quietly.

She blinked, and suddenly his cock was in front of her face, poised before her mouth. 

A surprisingly gentle hand reached up to cup the side of her face, a sensation she leaned into before the fingers slid to the back of her skull, intertwining in her disheveled hair once more.

“Want to find out?” He said, his tone almost feral as his fingers tightened.

Somehow she knew she was going to get in trouble with her answer before she even said anything. 

“Yes.” 

The yellow in his eyes, which had been dimming as he’d pounded her into the table, flared up in a dangerous glow.

“Good.” He said evilly. 

His spare hand began gently pushing her mouth open as his cock approached.

“Then  _ open wide… _ ”

* * *

The Duchess sat at her desk, eyes glued on the hologram in front of her. She watched with rapt attention as her husband abused and degraded her older sister.

But when Bo Katan was first thrust into the table, and she screamed in an unholy mix of pain and pleasure, Satine’s fingers dipped into her nightgown.

One hand went to her areolae to twist her nipple until it gave some semblance of the pain she was watching, while the other went to her sex, finding her clit immediately and running over it in time with the video feed.

She continued edging herself as she watched her husband take Bo Katan, and as he became rougher and rougher with her.

Satine’s own lust jumped with every noise coming from her estranged sister, finally culminating in one climatic moan as Bo screamed one last time before being thrown to the ground. 

She breathed heavily, trying to regain her composure, pulling her fingers from her gown, idly sucking on her own juices as she refocused on the video.

* * *

_ “Want to find out?” He said, his tone almost feral as his fingers tightened. _

_ “Yes.”  _

_ “Good.” he paused, looking at the holoprojector, and Satine. “Then open wide…” _

* * *

Satine smiled viciously and turned off the feed. She elegantly moved off her now stained chair and worked her way into the sheets of her bed. 

“All according to plan…” she whispered to nobody as she drifted to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Bo was sore.

She was sore in...well in ways she hadn’t been sore in a  _ long  _ time. 

She distantly took stock of herself. All of her weapons were gone...sort of. Various dangerous implements were strewn all over the room where they’d been discarded, the lightsaber burns indicating how they’d been removed.

Her body was...almost entirely nude. A boot was on, as were some random pieces of her armor, but her sex and bosom were completely exposed.

As she realized how uncovered she was, she also realized the  _ state  _ her body was in. Bruises and red marks lined her body. Her thighs had ugly purple bruises where he’d slammed her into the table. Her wrist that didn’t have a gauntlet (she didn’t recall when or  _ how  _ that came off) had red lines across it from where her own tow cable had restrained her. And she had various other bruises and contusions all over her that she couldn’t even  _ begin  _ to list off given the slight headache she had. 

The warrior tried to stand, only for her legs to give up on her, and she collapsed next to the bed, grabbing onto the ornate stand it was attached to for balance. 

“ _ Fuck… _ ” She whispered. She’d had orgasms before, and she’d had fights before, but she had  _ never  _ felt anything like this afterwards. Her insides felt rearranged, her outsides felt like she’d been stuck in a blender, and her head felt...satisfied. Supremely, overwhelmingly, satisfied. 

She’d hate herself but she didn’t have the energy to.

“Yes, he does tend to leave girls like that.” Came a feminine voice from across the room.

Despite her position almost collapsing by the bed, Bo worked up the energy to  _ glare  _ at her little sister. 

“ _ Relax _ .” Satine said with a roll of the eyes. “I come under flag of truce.” she continued, waving a thermos of liquid and a ration pack.

Bo sighed, smelling the remnants of caf from there, and flopped to sit by the bed, her back propped against the mattress, before gesturing the other woman over.

Satine quietly handed over the drink, which Bo chugged immediately, before grabbing the food and shoving the ration sticks into her mouth. 

The Duchess waited patiently as her nigh-completely nude sibling wolfed down the offerings. 

“I paid my debt.”

Satine started slightly, and Bo couldn’t really blame her. Whether by the screaming she had done throughout the night, a lack of fluids, or the repeated abuse her throat had suffered under the Sith’s assaults, she sounded so hoarse as to be almost unrecognizable. 

“I said. I paid. My debt.” She enunciated slowly. 

Satine raised a disbelieving eyebrow. 

“hmm, I’m not really sure about that,” She said, finger tapping her chin. “You satisfying him is really only a short term benefit while we put our long term stability at risk-“

“ _ Satine _ .” Bo growled, with murder on her face, her eyes locking with her sister. “I. Paid. My. Debt.” 

The Duchess huffed in annoyance, before turning away from her sister. “...Fine. You paid your fucking debt.”

Bo nodded and turned back to the food and drink. 

But Satine’s voice rang out again with a hint of something more. “Even if the exchange was horribly lopsided, you definitely paid  _ your  _ debt.” 

The nude woman sitting on the ground paused in stuffing her face, eyes narrowing. 

“...what do you mean  _ ‘your  _ debt’.” 

The Duchess’s voice was airy with a false note of nonchalance. “ _ Your _ slate is clean, but how about that little gang of violent extremists you call a clan?” Her eyes flickered to Bo’s prone form. “Do you think  _ they _ will take to Obi-Wan shooting their leader in the head as well as you?” 

Bo could feel another headache coming on, and a pit began to form in her stomach. “...what do you want.” she asked. 

Satine’s voice changed once more to her business tone, cold and calculating. “I want you, working as Obi Wan’s bodyguard. Vizsla’s  _ Verburyc at te Kyr'am (Loyal to the Death) _ , the most violent of his extremists, getting on board with us? That could go a  _ long  _ way towards cutting down on the bloodshed.” 

“...and the ones that won’t get on board?”

“You can work those debts off with my husband. Privately.” Satine responded, gesturing to the wrecked room around them, then to Bo’s bedraggled body.

“And if I don’t?” Bo’s voice didn’t betray the dawning feeling she was already too deep into the Sarlacc pit to leave now.

“Oh Bo, dearest…” Satine said soothingly, running a finger up the edge of her sister’s jaw. “We have all of _Mandalore_ behind us now. And the galaxy is such a busy place...” 

She leaned down to whisper into the nude woman’s ear, the one still scarred from Satine’s 'parting gift' the previous day. 

“Nobody will notice one less clan on Mandalore.” 

The warrior gently raised a thermos to her mouth, taking a cautious sip as her hand trembled slightly. 

She sighed. “...what’s your real game here, Satine?” she whispered hoarsely. “And don’t give me banthashit about ‘peace on Mandalore’.”

“ _ Finally _ , a good question.” Satine chirped, a pleased smirk on her face, before it became contemplative. She seemed to war with herself about something before sighing in annoyance. “...honestly? I...do not trust these Sith.” 

Bo gave her a raised eyebrow. 

“Not in the normal sense. I trust Obi-Wan with my life, and more. But these Sith, they’re not... _ animals _ , but with whatever ‘Force’ they toy with, they sure as hell  _ act  _ like it sometimes.”

A shred of true fear passed through her face. “I need him to protect Mandalore, but to do that, I need a  _ leash  _ on him to keep his baser instincts in check, and frankly, I am starting to  _ fray _ .”

The Duchess huffed, seemingly letting out all of her true emotions in one breath, while smirking. “Besides, any good dog needs a good bitch to  _ rut  _ with, and I can’t very well go out in public with a handprint on my face now can I?”

Bo started, hand going to her face, only to wince at the bruise forming there. 

She glared at her sister again. 

The warrior decided to ignore the slight against her honor and focus on the bigger picture. “You’re not telling me the whole truth.” 

“I never tell the whole truth. That’s why I’m the fucking  _ Duchess of Mandalore _ .” She responded.

Bo still looked vaguely murderous, so Satine tried one more tactic. 

“Bo, I need someone to...keep an eye on him. Someone I trust.” 

“You don’t trust anyone.” Bo said with absolute certainty.

Satine paused, her mask slipping slightly. “...fine. How about someone I  _ know  _ I can’t trust with him?”

Her sister sighed, her eyes closing to think, parsing Satine’s words carefully, but her grogginess got in the way of her higher cognitive functions and her patience. 

“Satine, unless you just come out and say it-” 

“ _ Bo _ .” Satine said sharply. 

Bo opened her eyes, staring at her sister. If she didn’t know better, she would almost swear Satine was...scared. 

“I. Can’t. Control. Him.” Satine said, enunciating every word.

“...and?” Bo whispered. 

“...and Sith are animals.” She said, choosing her words carefully. “If this one goes rabid…” 

Bo’s eyes widened slightly. 

Satine seemed to relax minutely, and she returned to her Duchess persona that so frightened her sister. “...if that happens. I need someone I trust with Obi-Wan.” 

“...no,” Bo said carefully. “If that happens, you want someone there you  _ don’t  _ trust with him.” 

Satine smiled slightly. As close to a genuine one as Bo had ever seen on her. “There. See? You can learn diplomacy.” 

Silence reigned between them, as both considered Satine’s offer.

“...deal?” Satine asked carefully. 

She was going to regret this.

“...yeah. Deal.” Bo responded quietly. 

“Good.” Satine said, standing up abruptly. “He’s leaving on a diplomatic mission in less than twenty four hours. Wipe that cum off yourself, fix your armor, and be ready to leave in twelve.”

Bo began to use her arms to climb onto the bed, flopping onto it, and raising a middle finger at the Duchess of Mandalore. 

“Fuck you too, sis.” she croaked. 

“I don’t care what you call me, just be ready in ten hours! And dress for the desert!” 

Bo was already asleep before the door had even shut.

* * *

Once the door had shut completely, Satine pulled out her holoprojector, and began pulling out various items for her to work on. 

Distantly, she also grabbed her communicator and pressed the call button. 

“Defensive perimeter.” she said offhandedly. “My lady?” “About that guest, she will be staying with us indefinitely. Belay the kill order for now.” “By your command, my lady.” 

She smiled as she shut off the communicator. 

_ All according to plan. _


End file.
